


The Blood Witch's Vengeance

by TheBananasaurus



Category: Loki - Fandom, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: (Get it because Hela is the Norse goddess of Hel, Adventure, Aesir, Angst, Asgard, Asgardian - Freeform, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Eventual Smut, Fight Scenes, Fluff, Hela violence - Freeform, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Like, M/M, Magic-Users, Marvel - Freeform, Norse, Okay I'll see my way out) - Freeform, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11498856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBananasaurus/pseuds/TheBananasaurus
Summary: Kolga, He of the Frozen Wave,once-daughter and nowsonof the giants Aegir and Rán, lord and lady of the sea itself… according to Norse Midgardians, at least.He was known by many names - by those few that few that knew of him, at least. The Nine Waves, the Nine Daughters of Aegir… few Midgardians even remembered his father and mother, let alone him and his sisters. Only those few who studied, or were borne of the Norse peoples, might recognize his name.They mattered little, however. The only person he cared to know him was the one person that could stop Kolga’s world, and the rest of the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil, from drowning in an ocean of fire and blood:The fallen Asgardian prince, Loki, of Jotunheim.





	1. Flashforward, Flashback

**Author's Note:**

> [ **Author's Note:**  
>  Kolga, his parents, and his sisters are all based on Norse myth, though in name, title, and relationship to each-other alone, as not much else is said of them. The character was created in 2011 and role-played on-and-off since then, until I decided that I wasn't going to be afraid of people who didn't like the short-story I had created with him, Loki, and the rest of the characters, because I knew of at least two people who would enjoy the adventure regardless of OC/canon shipping.  
> And thus, the adventure begins!
> 
>  **[References of Kolga In "True" Form and Asgardian/Human Form](http://imgur.com/a/GYj20)** (Created in doll-makers until I draw proper art of him)
> 
>  **Pronunciation Guide:** Kolga (COAL-guh), Aegir (EE-jeer), Rán (Rah-oon), Blodughadda (BLAWD-oo-HAWD-uh), Unnr (OON-ur), Aesir (EE-sur [or] AY-sur), Jotunn/Jotnar/Jotunheim/Jotunnhundar (YOH-tuhn/YAWT-nahr/YOH-tuhn-hym/YOH-tuhn-HOON-dahr)]
> 
>  
> 
> _(Banner was created with dolls created using AzaleasDolls.com and DollDivine.com)_

****

 

**PROLOGUE: FLASHFORWARD**

 

**“Why are you helping me? WHY?!”**

Loki’s words cut through Kolga like a knife, such that, he winced as if he truly had been pierced through the heart. The sea witch turned on-heel to face the mistrustful fallen prince, who was bearing his teeth in a silent growl as his laboured breaths came out in short, angry bursts from flared nostrils. Those eyes… those pale, viridescent eyes… they were the same as they were so long ago, only with centuries of loss, pain, and betrayal added to the unbridled fury of an angry god.

Kolga understood him more than he knew. More than he might _ever_ know. **“Because you are the only one that can - or** **_will_ ** **\- help me stop her, highness,”** replied Kolga with all the cool apathy he usually mustered in his tone. It was difficult to do so with one whom he had idolized since childhood, especially when the self-same man was glaring daggers at him.

Loki straightened up and inhaled slowly, before exhaling as he spoke with visceral derision. **“Who?”** he spat, though Kolga had seen the way his features had momentarily softened when referred to by his old station. The sea witch's lips twitched, but his face remained a placid mask.

**“Blodughadda. The Blood Witch of Muspelheim. She of the Bloodied Wave,”** began Kolga, once again turning his back to a jotunn few would dare have the courage to do so with. If he were to die by Loki’s hand, then so be it. First, however, Loki would know the enemy of all who would wish to remain alive and unenslaved.

**“...My sister.”**

 

* * *

 

 

**IN THE BEGINNING**

 

This story truly began just over 500 years ago (time, again, was meaningless to immortals), on the plane of Jotunheim: Realm of the giants, the jotunn.

But a few centuries prior, the Asgardian king, son of a giant himself, Odin, had banished the jotnar, never again to walk other planes but their own. Still, as Aegir and Odin had had a pleasant relationship despite their races’ tensions, the Aesir and Vanir alike would regularly convene at Aegir’s grand mead hall and feast for days.

It was at one such of these celebrations that a young Kolga, at the stage in a jotunn’s life that was equivalent to that of a human’s pre-pubescence, had come down from her quarters against her father’s orders. She was the youngest of what so far were eight sisters, and was not permitted to attend the celebrations. These feasts were no place for children: there were bawdy jests, alcohol consumed in massive quantities, and the occasional drunken rant by one Norse “god” or another.

And yet, young Kolga had snuck down three flights of stairs and crouched behind one of the multitudes of massive oaken banisters, in spite of this. She wanted to see what all the screaming was about, obviously; why the floors of the mead hall were covered in sticky, foul smelling substances for days after.

Her eyes first settled on her father, massive even for a jotunn, shirtless and pounding his chest with a fist at the head of the table. A hearth twice the height of a mortal man, and five times as wide, was filled not with flames, but Aegir’s personal stash of gold coins, which cast a flickering orange halo around the giant’s silhouette. This, the god’s often jested, was “Aegir’s Fire.”

** “I slew them by the score! None would stand before my blade and live! And once the fields ran red with their blood, I lead a horde of Midgardian women to the nearest hall and---” **

Rán, his heavily pregnant Aesir wife, her cheeks glowing red, cut him off and lay a hand on his shoulder. Her smile was strained, forced.

**“I think that’s quite enough, my love. No one wishes to hear of your conquests with those loose creatures.”**

**“Oh, but I am certain we’d all be dying to hear of how many times you yourself were ‘conquered’ before marrying your dear husband, m’lady.”**

It was then that a hound-sized black cat with blazing emerald eyes and lashing tail emerged from the shadows. Its form shimmered, green mist enveloping it, before young Prince Loki, the trickster god, stood up in its place wearing a devious grin.

The hall fell silent, and all eyes turned to Aegir save for Rán (who was wordlessly sputtering at the grievous insult to her purity), and Kolga (who, from the shadows of the stairwell, gaped in wide-eyed wonder and white-knuckled the posts astride her head).

For several heavy seconds, there were no sounds but the swish of Loki’s cloak as he sauntered up to prince Thor himself, flashing that feral smile. Thor erupted from his chair, sending it flying backwards, scraping the boards gratingly. However, Odin stayed his hand as Aegir pushed his his own chair backwards, albeit in a far more composed manner. His hands were upon the table, palms flat, and his expression was utterly devoid of emotion. Even as the feisty godling leaned down and draped himself luxuriously over the opposite end of the table, Aegir was silent.

Kolga watched him, entranced by his audacity, by his fluid demeanor and rakish features, and something within her latched onto that single image of Loki smiling at the giants and gods of the Norse peoples. In all the years and pits and heights she would explore from then on, she would always be able to recall, in alarming clarity, the glint of daring in his verdant eyes.

Suddenly, however, the silence that Loki had no doubt relished every moment of was broken by the gently flowing baritone of Aegir. His seafoam eyes settling upon the younger, much smaller man, he quirked a silver-dusted brow.

**“Ah but Loki, dear Uninvited One, the tales of you bearing children for the giant Hroth, or a foal by the stallion, Svadilfari, are by far more interesting. Do tell; do you go about in the guise of a female simply to be impregnated for sport, or is it happenstance, after one of your famous spells has gone awry?”**

All at once the hall erupted with laughter, and Loki was scowling - not for being insulted, because  _ he _ certainly wasn’t ashamed of his exploits - but for the attention being torn away from him. The trickster stood away from the table, flourishing his cloak about himself. As its tails fettered about his ankles, an ominous droning undercut the atmosphere of jovialty. Aegir knew exactly what was about to happen, however, and whistled shrilly.

Just before Loki could fire off what would have undoubtedly been troublesome sorcery, an enormous, dragon-winged, pony-sized canine (one of Aegir’s many jotunhundar, ice hounds that were frequent companions of frost giants) swept down from the rafters and flew at the trickster, maw snapping viciously. Sufficiently threatened, Loki let the spell founder and swiftly transformed back into a cat before absconding out a nearby window, vanishing into the icy blackness of that Jotunheim night.

As little Kolga crept back up the stairs and slipped under the bed-covers, visions of the brilliant, silver-tongued sorcerer flooded her mind. She was enthralled by such magnificent magic, so sassy a mouth, and so sharp an appearance.

And what had been this about being able to shift into another gender entirely? She had felt, all her life, that she had never meant to have been born female… Would furthering her studies in seidr - the magic of the Aesir - aid her in realizing her once unknowable dream?

Ah, but speaking of dreams… that night, hers were filled with visions of a great black cat that stole her away from her boring, sheltered life, placed her on its back, and showed her adventure in the dark forests and seas of Midgard.


	2. A Birth to Be Mourned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ **Author's Note:** _Trigger warning for explicitly described murderrrr._ ]

Months later, in the wee hours before morn, Kolga was awoken by the agonized screams of her mother.

Rán had gone into labor, and lay in her bedroom with the midwife and Aegir hovering about her. Young Kolga and her older sisters crowded into their parents’ parlor, after the midwife had given up shooing them upstairs, but the door to the bedroom was locked before them. The rest of of the girls resigned themselves to wait, sitting upon this furniture and that.  

Kolga, however, with the aid of the little magic she’d learned, summoned the _seidr_ from deep within and touched the handle. A soft, cerulean glow emenated from her fingertips and sunk into the metal, unlocking the door with a soft _‘click!’_. Her sisters peered at her, aghast, but dared not follow, as she opened the door but a sliver, and peaked inside.

Aegir - despite already having been present for seven births - was out of his head, fretting over his wife… but both he and the midwife had their backs turned. With a small smile of self-satisfaction, Kolga stealthily slipped inside, and quickly scampered to a poorly lit corner of the room, where she crouched to watch the goings-on.

**“When will the blasted thing come OUT?!”** grumbled the Aegir as he paced the length of the room. He tugged on his silver-lined beard such that he was pulling hairs out.

Rán chuckled breathlessly, **“Husband, you speak as if** **_you_ ** **are the one pushing a living being out of your body.”**

Aegir threw his hands in the air and made nonsensical snorting noises. The midwife left the room a moment and returned with more clean cloths, tucking them under Rán’s bottom half.

**“Should be soon, m’lord,”** she said, **“The child wi--”**

An ear-splitting shriek had the entire room cringing in pain, aside from the iron-nerved midwife, who seated herself on a stool she’d retrieved before Rán’s spread legs.

**“It comes! Bring the tub!”** she demanded. Kolga thought it passing strange to hear someone other than King Odin or King Laufey ordering her father about.

Aegir frantically scanned the room, appearing like a hunted beast being cornered. **“Which?! The warm or the hot-”**

**“The** **_warm_ ** **one, by the All-father, the warm one!”**

In spite of herself and the fear instilled in her by her mother’s shrill screams, Kolga giggled softly behind her fingers at her father’s absentmindedness. Master strategist and fierce warrior was he, felled by an unborn babe.

The jotunn retrieved the tub of warm water as asked and placed it next to the midwife. Within several tense minutes, she announced:

**“The head is through! Now the shoulders, m’lady. You’re doing well. Push!”**

**I am, you daft-- AGH!”** began Rán, until a contraction cut her off. She spoke no longer, concentrating all her energy on birthing the babe, instead.

Though it may have felt like ages to her, after several more rounds of screaming (and cursing, from Aegir), the child was born.

**“Oh, thank the Nine,”** sighed Rán, flopping back into the veritable mountain of pillows behind her.

The midwife tutted the child’s screams, and cradled it gently as she looked to Aegir. **“Tis’ another beautiful girl, m’lord. You will do the honors, as always?”**

**“Of course,”** smiled Aegir, unsheathing his pocket-knife and snipping the cord tying mother to infant. He spoke above the wails of the babe, hoarse from his hours of bellowing. **“If it is yet another daughter, then I suppose we shall go with the name we chose, yes, my wife?”**

**“Mmh,”** hummed the exhausted Rán, propping herself up on her elbow and reaching for the babe. **“Unnr - the Frothing Wave.”**

The couple smiled in tandem, but even as the midwife leaned down to bequeath the child upon her mother, another startling sound had the elder woman clutching Unnr to her bosom.

The window behind Rán had shattered, raining down shards of glass and broken cross-beams upon her as she screamed and shielded herself with her arms. Aegir all but leapt towards her, but stumbled over the stool, and fell heavily with a cry. The midwife bustled out of the room, carrying Unnr to safety with her.

**“I have returned,** **_father!”_ ** declared an unfamiliar woman’s voice.

_Father?!_

Too frightened to move herself, Kolga watched from the shadows as a figure leapt up to the window and perched upon the sill. Her fiery mane of wild curls whipped about her face, concealing all but molten gold eyes that swept about the room.

Aegir called out as he attempted to drag himself up off the floor by way of the nearest bedpost. **“Who dares enter my home? Rán, come away!”**

The unknown woman snarled viciously, and leapt down onto the bed. She snatched up Rán’s hair within her fist, and yanked the screaming goddess’ head back to reveal her throat. Something in her hand glinted in the candle-light - a dagger, glowing white-hot with heat as if freshly taken from the coals of a smithy.

Knowing her mother to be too weary from the birth, and her father too slow, Kolga burst from her hiding place and reached out to Rán, hoping to somehow stop this madwoman.

...But she was too late. With a furious **_“Rrah!”_ ** _,_ the invader sliced Rán’s throat open, and a fountain of crimson spurted forth from the wound, splattering the young girl with warm, coppery lifeblood.

**“I am Blodughadda Myrkrdottir, you _swine!_ The daughter you abandoned before I even knew life!”** shrieked the red-haired woman. **“My mother perished because you** **_left_ ** **her! Know my name, and fear it!”**

Aegir bellowed with grief, and finally reached the bedside to avenge his wife’s demise. With a cruel cackle, Blodughadda released her hold of Rán, who gurgled with her last, blood-drowned breath, and fell to the bed, lifeless.

Her hand now free, Blodughadda thrust it towards Aegir, and a ball of searing fire was flung from her palm. Though his reflexes were slowed with his age, he was quick enough to bring his forearm before his face, and the flames burst upon it, singing him and filling the room with the combined scent of blood and burnt flesh.

Though pained, Aegir roared and snatched at Blodughadda’s billowing robe. It was then that Aegir’s guards finally entered the room with a clamor of armored boots. They charged at the murderess, and Aegir tried to tug her off balance, but instead, her robes ripped, and with a frustrated growl, she retreated to the windowsill.

Kolga stood where she was, once more frozen, as she stared at her mother’s body, even as she was spotted by the fleeing witch. Blodughadda extended her arm towards the guards and Aegir, and a second ball of flames shot forth, though it missed whatever target it was meant for and instead set the bed ablaze in an instant.

**“The Nine Realms shall fall to the flame by my hand,** **_sister,_ ** **”** grinned Blodughadda over the crackle of the inferno. Kolga’s tear-filled gaze swept up to meet those feral yellow eyes. **“All will kneel… or they will know my wrath!”**

Kolga felt a cold chill shoot down her spine, and then, the woman was gone from whence she came, escaping retribution into the night.


	3. Unnr's Second-Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the chaos of that terrible night, Kolga’s mother was placed on a boat, and floated down the Vimur River, her body lit by a pyre in what the young girl considered a mockery of her murder.

But who was she to speak? The traditions of old would not be changed by the conditions of one’s death, regardless of the cruel irony.

Thus, Rán, the Goddes of the Sea, wife of Aegir, mother of eight of the Nine Waves, was sent to the after-life in flames.

In the wake of her demise, Aegir became a shell of a giant. He could no longer bear the duties bequeathed to him by Laufey, nor hold the feasts in his mead hall. So stricken by grief was he, that he spent most of his days by the hearth, staring vacantly into his pile of glimmering treasure, and left his children to look after him, and one another.

Life, for Kolga and her sisters, was utterly shattered.

Nevertheless, Kolga took it upon herself to bring Unnr under her wing. From that moment, she made it her life’s purpose to rid the world of Blodughadda, saving herself from ever having to lose another family member... especially the babe, Unnr.

She studied magic, though she was only ever able to master water spells at first, and sparred nearly every day with other young warriors. Occasionally, she and her sisters were allowed to visit Asgard’s palatial grounds under the strict surveillance of palace guards  and a spell by the queen herself to mask their jotunn flesh with a more Aesir-like tone. Kolga never let Unnr from her sight during these visits… though, truly, she rarely did at all.

As the babe grew to a toddler, it was Kolga, not her father, that taught her to walk. When Unnr began babbling in the manner of children learning to speak, it was Kolga, not Aegir, that taught her the languages of the Jotnar and the Aesir… and when the younger girl was finally old enough, Kolga began training her as well. They were inseparable, choosing each other’s company  to the exclusion of all others.

It was after one particularly grueling session of unarmed sparring in Asgard’s training pit that Unnr first suggested that Kolga focus on transfiguration studies in order to find her “true self.”

**“I know what you are, Kolga,”** sighed the slight-of-figure Unnr, rubbing her bruised forearm. She tucked an errant strand of flaxen curls behind her ear and motioned vaguely at Kolga’s torso. The body of a budding woman.

**“I know not what you mean,”** Kolga sniffed, lifting her chin a bit. She did, of course. Unnr knew her better than anyone. Kolga suspected she carried the rare gift of empathetic sight into others’ minds, but she had no way of knowing for certain.

Unnr sighed and hung her sparring stick upon the wall with the rows of other weaponry dulled by usage by Asgardian warriors. Kolga followed suit, silent.

Waiting.

**“This body doesn’t suit you,”** Unnr insisted. **“You aren’t my sister, Kolga. You must know you prattle on about it in your sleep.”**

There it was. Kolga’s frame stiffened, and she cast her gaze aside. **“I--!”** she began, at first aiming to deflect the accusation… but she knew it was for naught.

**“‘Tis true,”** she murmured, somehow ashamed. **“I cannot deny what I have tried to hide, sister. You see through me as if I were made of glass.”**

Strangely, Unnr chuckled. Kolga glanced up at her, brows furrowed as her stomach pitted. How could she laugh at such a time as this?

**“You speak so often of Prince Loki - of his talents, of your envy of his affinity for** **_seidr_ ** **magic - yet you, too, are more talented than all of our sisters combined,”** said the younger sister, cupping Kolga’s cheek. She smiled, gently, love and acceptance clear in her crystalline sapphire eyes.

**“Were you to commit yourself to the craft of changing your shape to fit your soul, I know you would succeed.”**

Kolga’s cheeks flushed with heat, her normally aegean flesh darkening. **“Hush, Unnr - you will be heard by prying ears!”**

Did she truly speak that often of her idol? She would have to endeavor to correct that, lest others think her obsessed. Her sisters were certainly obsessed by Prince Thor, the dashing Fandral, and the grim Hogunn of the Warriors Three. All Asgardian children wanted to be like them - fierce, uncowable warriors constantly on one adventure or another…

But Kolga? She fancied the sly, magically-inclined, skilled, and heart-breakingly fetching Loki Odinson.

Again, Unnr flashed her teeth, somehow both victorious and mocking in the same vein. Kolga clutched at her sister’s fingers upon her face and smiled gently, attempting to concentrate on the true subject at hand.

Her voice, quieter still than her terse whisper, struggled to remain stable. 

**“But, Unnr… should I do as you say, would you… Would you accept me as your brother?”**

Unnr’s jovial expression vanished. The siblings peered into each other’s eyes for a moment that felt like an age, and then--

**“Of course I would, Kolga. You and I are as one. You are my kin, and even closer than that. I am certain our sisters will accept you as well, in their time, if not at once.”**

Kolga’s dark brows drew upward together, and her -- no, _his_ vision blurred with moisture. Yet, true relief shone in his grin, before he pulled the girl into a tight embrace.

He pledged to himself, then and there, that he would double his _seidr_ regimen and seek a tutor among the Aesir. He would no longer pretend to be something he was not. He was not female, and never truly had been. This daughter of Aegir would become the sea god’s one and only son.

And yet, this triumph between two loving siblings was cut abruptly short by the jeering voice both recognized immediately.

**“Oh look, it appears we have the mongrel children of an Aesir and giant too weak to defend themselves from a single invader.”**

Kolga and Unnr drew apart, and the latter twisted around as the former narrowed her eyes at the golden prince himself, Thor.

He scoffed and elbowed Loki, who was beside him, pursing his lips in a silent stare.

**“Why father has allowed jotnar filth on our lands when the rest of their kind is rightly banished is frankly beyond me,”** Thor scowled. **“What shall we do with them, brother?”**

The elder of Aegir and Rán’s children placed himself between the brothers and Unnr, though not without some small struggle and a grunt of complaint. Thor pulled Mjolnir from its loop on his belt, and gave it a swing. The heavy weapon whistled through the air ominously before planting in his opposite palm.

Kolga’s lip curled and he opened his mouth to shoot vitriol at the fool, but lost his words when the almost _pained_ sigh of the darker-haired prince stole them from him.

**“Nothing, Thor. Resist your urges lest you test the tenuous peace we have with Jotunheim,”** Loki said, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder. His knuckles, already pale, were white with tension despite the blase tone of his voice.

**“But brothe--”**

This time, it was Kolga whom cut in, with soft, icy speech, albeit with rage seething dangerously beneath the surface. His temper was almost as bad as Thor’s it seemed.

**“Thank you, highness,”** he murmured, dipping his head in a shallow bow.

As soon as a sound left his lips, however, Loki’s verdant gaze sharpened and flung a veritable dagger through Kolga’s heart.

**“Do not speak to me, half-breed. I do your kind no favors - this is only to save my kingdom from war.”**

The young seawitch inhaled sharply as his lungs ceased to function for a moment. Thor uttered a bullish snort, and the two princes sauntered off to train elsewhere.

Behind Kolga, Unnr wrested herself from his hold and came beside him, looking up at him with concern etched into the furrows of her brow.

**“Kolga… I…”**

Jaw clenching, the elder ‘half-breed’ shook his head, quieting Unnr. There would be no words to mend the wound of being treated like a monster by a man he had no right to feel for. Thus, the siblings made their departure as well, the entire walk home made in utter, stony silence.

Today… had been one Hel of a day.

 


End file.
